Page 48 of Letters of Faith
Grayson’s back within minutes with a bible in his hand, and I instantly understand his embarrassment. I bought the bible for Grayson during our freshman year of high school. My mom and Nate’s mom gave us new bibles at the start of our freshman year. They wanted us to start our high school experience on the word of God. They had mentioned what they were doing to Grayson’s mom, but they were poor—really poor. So when Nate and I got our Bibles, and Grayson didn’t, I took all my allowance and bought him one, too. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he opened it up. He looked at me with pure adoration, and that was the first time I knew what it felt like to be loved by Grayson Lewis—even if I didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time.
He hands the bible to me without any comment, and I let it go because I can tell that it makes him uncomfortable.
I run my hand over the smooth leather and then flip to the verse and start to read, “Jeremiah 29:11—For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans to prosper and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
My voice trails off, the weight of that verse sitting like a ton of bricks on my chest. I look up at Grayson, and he’s standing withhis hands in his pocket, swallowing hard.
“What’s the story behind that verse?” Grayson asks.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve read it, but I remember the basics. God’s people were exiled—as a result of their own sins—but God wanted them to know that he was still sovereign and faithful. He said he would return in seventy years and perform his good word. In the meantime, he wanted them to live their life—marrying and making homes and most of all praying for the peace of the city they are in.”
Grayson sits beside me and pulls the bible into his hands, skimming over the verses.
“I guess I still don’t understand.”
I sigh because the truth is I don’t either. I don’t understand a lot of the things that have happened over the last year.
“I think that the point of the story is to show the people that in the midst of the chaos we create, he is still good and patient—even at the times we least deserve it. There may be times when our life is hard, but there is hope in the future.”
He lays the bible on the table and turns to me, slipping his fingers through mine.
“Do you believe that?” he asks, and I wish he hadn’t.
“I want to because I’ve created a lot of chaos for myself in the last year—”
“But—” Grayson prods.
“But I can’t figure out how to get rid of this anger that’s still swirling in my stomach. Some days, I think I’m not angry anymore, and then it hits me out of nowhere. How can I be angry and pray for peace, too?”
He nods his head but remains silent. I don’t know if I’ve helped him or confused him more, but I hope for his sake I’ve pushed him toward finding the peace I’ve been searching for the past year.
Chapter 20
Georgia
Atext pings through my phone in the other room.
It’s been a week since that kiss—or, I guess, kisses—with Grayson. He’s professionally distant at work, but every night, he comes to my apartment. We eat dinner together and talk, but he hasn’t mentioned the date again—and he doesn’t touch me. I’m starting to wonder if he has his own form of guilt because I know I do. As we sit talking over dinner each night, I can’t help thinking about how Nate probably didn’t mean for my date to be with his best friend.
Would he be disappointed? Betrayed? I hate that death doesn’t offer closure. I can’t call and ask him like I would if we had broken up.
Walking into my bedroom, I find my phone lying on the bed and swipe my finger across the screen. There’s a notification from Grayson. I type in my passcode and then pull up the text.
Grayson: There’s a package for you outside.
Georgia:For me?
Grayson:No, for the other person who lives in my detached garage.
The snark on this man. Rolling my eyes, I text him back.
Georgia:Grumpy.
Grayson:Just go look at the package.
When he tries bossing me around, it makes me want to plant my butt exactly where I am and not move—which happens a lot because,technically, he is my boss. A please wouldn’t kill the man. I’ve tried to teach him manners, but that’s like communicating with a caveman. He operates in grunts, growls, and demands.
Georgia:Only after you ask me nicely.
